


Noche Buena

by Bone_Shoes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Idk if people like it i might expand it, Just tagging them anyway, Not actually a ship fic, we will see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bone_Shoes/pseuds/Bone_Shoes
Summary: A expanded version of the bar scene depicted in the Reflections Overwatch comic. No romantic stuff, just my take on the way Sombra and Mccree met.





	Noche Buena

Christmas Eve – Dorado, Mexico

Sombra swirled her drink around in the glass, eyeing it suspiciously. She had asked for a Bohemia, but it had tasted to her more like Noche Buena. How ironic. The bartender at Calaveras was a quiet man, but apparently he had a sense of humor. She supposed he had to, seeing the kind of trouble that made its way into his bar.

She looked over at the _vaquero_ slumped over at the other end of the counter. Like him, for example. Knocked out cold with a bottle of whiskey on Christmas Eve.

For Sombra, it was a brilliant stroke of luck. One of the worlds most wanted vigilantes, a man directly involved in her investigation, just so happens to swagger in to her local pub. She had watched him quietly from across the room as he had taken his shots, plotting her next course of action. Turn him in for the money? Interrogate him about Overwatch? Hand him over to Reaper just to see what would happen?

But drinks kept coming, and it was clear after a while that he slowly getting wasted. And now there he was, passed out and completely useless. _Pobrecito –_ how pathetic.

Then again, she wasn’t one to talk. A part of herself couldn’t help but note that the only difference between them was their level of restraint.

Lost in thought, she suddenly looked up as the bartender addressed her.

_“Disculpe, Senorita. Lo conoces?”_

_“No. Pero_ _Lo llevaré a casa.”_

He nodded. _“Me dio esto.”_

He handed her a business card. On it was printed the name “Motel Luna,” along with the address. She knew of the place- it was the dumpy little building with the tacky neon sign, just a few blocks up the street. The thought of dragging a wasted man up a steep hill was almost enough for her to abandon the effort entirely.

She should call someone, tell them that through her wit and clever maneuvering she had tricked the outlaw into making himself vulnerable. That she spent weeks tracking him here, undercover, with him non the wiser. Claim as much credit as possible and maybe get a nice reward.

But something held her back. Maybe it was the time of year- Christmas, the spirit of giving, all that _mierda_. Maybe it was the undeniable feeling of pity she had for him, like seeing an abandoned puppy out on the street. A puppy dressed up in a cowboy costume. Maybe she just found the whole thing too ridiculous to take seriously.

All theses excuses rolled around in her head as she got up and slowly moved across the bar.  
            “Hey,” she said, to which he didn’t reply.

As she got closer, she could hear him softly snoring. A small drip of drool had escaped his mouth and was making its way to the countertop.

She poked him gently.

“Hey. _Vaquero. Despiértate_ _.”_ The cowboy stirred a little.

“Come on, Mccree. Time for you to go.”

After a few seconds, he slowly lifted his head off the table, and peered at her through foggy eyes.

“How… how d’you know my name?”

“Trust me, _Vaquero_. I know everything. Now lets go.”

She grabbed him from behind, and with a grunt hauled him out of his stool. He remained quiet while she steadied him on his feet, apparently not willing to complain. She took his arm and pulled it around her shoulders, letting him brace himself against her side. He was certainly heavy, but not as much as she expected.

Shooting a sarcastic, “can you believe this guy” kind of look towards the bartender, who only responded with a nod, Sombra guided the cowboy out the door of Calaveras and into the empty street. The night air was a little chilly, but nothing unusual for the Mexican winter. Their slow, uneven footsteps echoed off the cobblestone road as the pair made their way up the street.

The Castillo was otherwise empty: everyone was tucked away inside their homes. Not even Los Muertos were out tonight- the dark corners and alleyways were quiet tonight. They were all inside, enjoying the company of their friends and relatives for the holiday, maybe laughing over some wine after dinner. The little children were by now snuggled safely in their beds, dreaming of the surprises to come tomorrow morning. And then their was Sombra, stuck outside alone with a drunken stranger who she was better off calling the police on.

The cowboy suddenly tripped, and before she had a chance to catch him, landed face first on the hard pavement. Loose objects flew out from his pockets and scattered across the street. With a loud sigh and a muttered curse she found herself collecting an assortment of items of the ground: A motel roomkey, a few crumpled up _pesos_ , some bullet casings, and a wallet. She stuffed them into her coat pockets, walked up to the _vaquero_ and pulled him back up again. He tried to speak, but it came out as a pathetic moan.

“Almost there, _vaquero_. Just keep moving.”

They eventually made it to the front entrance of the Motel Luna, and with great difficulty, Sombra managed to open the door and push the drunken man inside. The reception area was no bigger than a living room, and from the looks of it, not even the receptionist had bothered to stick around during the holiday. He fell down on the floor, making the ratty orange carpet look downright luxurious. She figured that leaving him here was close enough to getting him home.

She took out the things that had fallen on the street and inspected them closer. The wallet was a huge score. She could have easily just had taken it from him at the bar, considering the state he was in, but she felt smug about it regardless. It was packed with useless cards, random receipts and fake ID’s- perfect. Little bits of information that formed a web of who he was and where he had been. It was too easy.

Yet, once again, she found herself hesitating. She never found pity to be an obstacle before- why was this case any different? Nobody would know about what she had taken, save the cowboy. She laughed at the thought of him waking up in the morning and realizing what a horrible mistake he had made. Or maybe that was exactly it. There was not much fun to it. It was like winning a game against someone who wasn’t even playing. And where was the fun of that?

She threw the wallet and the rest of his things down on the ground beside him.

“Feliz Navidad. Until next time.”

She waved her hand back at him and she passed out through the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I would like to say thanks for reading and would ask that you leave a comment or a kudo if you enjoyed. I really love Sombra and hope that adding some content for her will inspire others to write about her as well!  
> Also note that I am not a native Spanish speaker, so if there is some blaring error in my grammar please let me know.
> 
> For those who dont understand the very beginning, Noche Buena is a type of Mexican Beer, but is also the Spanish name for Christmas Eve.
> 
> If enough people like this, I may consider just expanding it into an entire Sombra/McCree fic. I know its a rarepair and that the market probably isnt big but that hasnt stopped me before B)


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